


The Skywalker-Hook Victor

by WildcatPacer



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 06:03:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11776983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildcatPacer/pseuds/WildcatPacer





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: 45th Reaping**

There is no foreman to call for quitting time in the fields. Not like in District 9, let's say. Instead, young girls who are small and nimble and can climb trees whistle a three-note mockingjay tune to signal the end of the work day.

Even if it does feel weird to be hanging up my scythe in the middle of the morning. For today is Reaping Day. Seen as a holiday in most districts, whether compulsory or not. And this year, we are celebrating the 45th year of the Hunger Games, a competition in which the twelve districts of Panem send in one boy and girl of teenage years into an outdoor arena to fight to the death. The last tribute standing wins.

My name is Chaff Mitchell. I am 16 years old, which I am reminded of as I stand with my age group in the square outside the Justice Building. My homeland is District 11, agriculture. Our participation in the Games is largely forced; there are still rebels at heart here who would love to strike a blow against the Capitol if given the encouragement.

Our Mayor reads the Dark Days treaty, reminding the districts of their treason over a generation ago. Then, we watch as Peacekeepers escort our past Victors to the stage, and their names are read aloud. In just over a generation, we have had exactly three. One man and two women, their victories spaced about a dozen years apart. Our last win happened when I was a toddler.

"The Victor of the 10th Hunger Games: Wolfmark Redpath!" Our only male Victor slowly rises from his seat and waves to the polite applause. He's already in his early 60s - 61, I think - and can remember a time when there were no Games.

"The Victor of the 21st Hunger Games: Fallstreak Ivory!" A woman of 40 years waves. Fallstreak is a sweet faced woman, fair in her dark complexion. Yet she has remained unattached. Childless. As has -

"The Victor of the 33rd Hunger Games: Seeder Howell!" Our most recent champion still gets a few cheers. She is only 32, and could still be a wife and mother, but she's not.

All of our winners have followed what is known as the Victors' Code, which calls for absolutely no attachments. This has usually been interpreted as a vow of chastity and opting out of marriage, for the sake of a Victor's survival. The Capitol can be very manipulative and controlling of them.

It is a shame. About the Code. Our Victors are very helpful to the land, as District 11 was once built on the backs of African slaves, centuries ago. But in terms of progeny to work that land, our Victors are no help at all. Sad, because our rituals and traditions, especially those surrounding marriage, are very important to us. These traditions are what tie us together as a District, as we are one of the largest in Panem - 138,546 people, according to the most recent census.

"Birch Wildflake!" A girl of about 13 takes the stage with terror. The Reaping has begun. Then our district selects from the boys. "Chaff Mitchell!"

Oh no. But I keep a brave face as I mount the stage. Birch and I are ushered into the Justice Building.

* * *

Only my girlfriend, Asenath, visits me other than my parents. Then, Birch and I are escorted to the train with Wolfmark and Seeder. Fallstreak stays behind, seeing us off; she will likely trade off with Seeder for mentoring duties next year. "Good luck!" she encourages.

It's sad that Wolfmark has never had that luxury. Mentoring the male tribute for three and a half decades, all alone. And now he has me. But he is very knowledgeable and nice about giving me tips, such as asking about my skills. And, when I give them, advising me to keep them secret from the other tributes in training. At 61, Wolfmark is one of the oldest Victors and considered a sage. That's because most Victors only live into their 60s, as most of those who won in the first decade of the Hunger Games - just before Wolfmark - are either dead or dying. I think the only exception is Wolfmark's immediate predecessor, Savera Inchcape of District 8; she's still alive.

Birch has a nice mentor in Seeder, which is good. Fallstreak is harsher, I hear, a bit of a battle axe.

* * *

The media is on us when we get to the Capitol.

Most of the paparazzi think I'm strong, while Birch draws sympathy for being cute.

We begin as sheaves of wheat for the Tribute Chariot Parade through the City Circle. Then, Seeder and Wolfmark take us into the Training Center.

Training begins the next day. All the Careers - from Districts 1 and 2 - are bigger than me. But they have been training illegally for the arena since at least Wolfmark's day, maybe a little after. The tributes from 5 are crafty, but people still remember the triumph of James Logan from a few years back. Their tributes are always strong. The tributes from 4 look formidable, too, though they haven't had a win in seven, maybe eight years.

At the end of three days of training, we show off our skills to the Gamemakers. I pull an 11, beating the Careers, while Birch pulls a 7.

The fourth and final day and night are devoted to the interviews with Caesar Flickerman. He is very dynamic and works hard for the tributes to put their best foot forward. I tune out most of my competition except for Birch. At last, it's my turn, third to last.

"Chaff Mitchell! Wow! You are built like an oxen!" Caesar marvels. "District 11 has three good Victors. Think you can be the fourth?"

I laugh. "If I do, the Village will get pretty crowded. I don't know if there would be room for me against all those other characters!" The audience chortles with me, well aware of my mentors' reputations.

"You scored an 11 in training; care to tell us how?"

"You all will just have to wait and see, Caesar," I reply. There is a deadly connotation to it. To scare the other tributes. We are out of time.

"Chaff Mitchell!"

I still have nightmares that night.


	2. The Arena

**Chapter 2: The Arena**

I am awoken rudely by Seeder the next morning. Sleepily, I dress and follow her, Wolfmark, Birch and our escort up to the roof of the Training Center. A hovercraft awaits to take us to the arena. I hug my mentors goodbye, and keep young Birch close to me as we board. If we end up near each other when we are pushed up into the arena, maybe I can protect her; some of the Careers are already eyeing her like she's a snack.

The tracker is placed into my arm and off we go. As soon as we land, I am separated from Birch and the other tributes as we are hustled underground. I am dressed by my stylist, and say goodbye to her as the announcer marks ten seconds to launch. The glass tube seals around me, and I am forced up, up, up...

I emerge in a country farm landscape. It is mostly fields, with some rolling hills. In the distance is a small clump of trees, but it can't be large enough to be termed a forest. In one of the meadows, I see the Cornucopia; the large gray horn is imposing. A minute to get my bearings, I don't see Birch anywhere near me, and -

The gong goes off. I spring instantly for a backpack I had my eye on, and am fortunate to find a scythe - my weapon of choice - almost right next to it. Seizing both, I bully back another girl from my loot, but don't need to kill her. She merely turns around and runs away. Then I sprint into a valley beyond, heading for the rising sun in the distance.

I continue through the tall tall grass, over hill and valley, for many hours. At last, around mid-afternoon, I reach the small clump of trees from the distance and hide there. I hunt with my scythe. People from District 11 are generally familiar with trees, as we have to work around them often to get our work done in the fields. Sometimes, we have needed to cut trees down to clear space for a new field for harvesting. And the little ones who scale trees and signal the end of the workday with song usually climb a tree to make themselves heard.

So I do well in this foresty area as I find a small rabbit and kill it for a late lunch. It might also serve as a sort of dinner, if I'm liberal about it. My flight from the Bloodbath took many hours.

And it's still going on, for as we get towards evening, cannons are still going. They seem to be petering out, when all at once, I hear voices.

I duck behind a tree.

It is the boy from District 5. And he is being tormented by both tributes from District 4. I wonder how they beat me here, but maybe there was a chase that originated from another direction.

As I watch, the boy from 5 seems to rouse himself and push the boy from 4 off him. The latter falls backward with a sickening crack into a tree and collapses to the ground, still. Enraged, the girl from 4 leaps on the boy from 5 as he tries to get away, stabbing him again and again.

I can't do anything to save him. But revenge seems to be an appropriate course of action. The girl is still wailing on what is now just a body as I sneak up behind her and plunge my scythe through her back. She coughs up blood and falls forward on her own victim.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. How many cannons total have there now been? I am not sure. I didn't keep well enough count. But it's not much longer before the sun sets, and the faces of the dead appear in the sky.

There are a lot of them. We first start with the boy from 3, followed by his district partner. That means all the Careers have survived. Typical. Both from 4, who I encountered. Both from 5. 6.  _7_. 8. 9. 10. Birch. And both from 12. Holy shit.

I lean back against a tree and breathe low. I never entertained the thought that the reason I got that 11 in Training was because the rest of the field was so damn  _weak_  in comparison to me. No Final Eight this year. Has there ever been a Games where 19 of the tributes go in the first day? Surely not - District 7 tributes are very proficient in axes, and usually survive the first day, or at least one of them does. District 10 tributes are also very talented with weapons. And District 5 won just a few years ago; theirs are often masters at sneaking around or running.

But, perhaps those districts just had the misfortune of running into a very trigger-happy pack of Careers. Who are no doubt in an alliance and hunting down the one tribute left. Me. And they'll want to. I beat them all in Training.

* * *

I give it a few days of hunting for food in my little forest. All the while, I expect the Careers to enter my domain. Or even a Gamemaker trap to drive us together. Something. But nothing happens.

At last, on Day 5, I decided to go to them. Face them down. With several days of no kills, they are probably itching for blood, the lot of them. Or even better, maybe their alliance has bored them, made them rusty in combat. Either way, I start back across the fields to the Cornucopia, where I know they will be.

It takes me several days. I'm walking this time, not running. By night, I have the grasses on which to lay my head. Stars upon stars to look upon.

Deep into my journey, as I feel I am getting close, I suddenly hear three cannons in a row. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. The alliance has ended, as it so often does. And always with one last Career standing. Usually the first half of a Top Two whom he (or she) must now battle for the crown.

I break into a run, and finally behold the Cornucopia in the distance. When I reach it, I see that the survivor is the boy from District 2, though he looks winded. No, more than winded -  _wounded_.

This is my chance. I charge him. But he fights with nothing left to lose. Scythe on broadsword, we go back and forth. At one point, as our blades lock, his slides down and finds skin.

"GAHH!" I look in horror at my left hand, now lying on the grass. My arm bleeding profusely from a stump. Thank God my left is not my dominant hand. I seize my scythe in the only hand I now possess - my right - as I roll away from District 2's sword. And then I stab upward viciously.

Right into his heart.

The District 2 boy goes down. There's the cannon. And Claudius Templesmith's voice as he announces the newest Victor:

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the winner of the 45th Annual Hunger Games: Chaff Mitchell, the male tribute from District 11!"


	3. 54th Reaping

**Chapter 3: 54th Reaping**

I am pulled from the arena, and right away I am annoyed by how many Capitol doctors offer to fix up my hand.

I don't think it's sincere. They just want their new Victor to be perfect and new again, and one who is a cripple just won't do. But no, I refuse them. If I want to have a reminder of just what I had to do to win the Hunger Games, better it be a physical reminder and not psychological. I can do with a wounded body. I couldn't do with a wounded mind. So I leave my left hand in a stump, as a sort of badge of honor.

Thus, the Capitol begins to call me nicknames. Referring to people who have gone on without a hand. Such as Luke Skywalker, who lost his hand on a planet called Bespin. Or Captain Hook, who battled a boy who would never grow up.

The Skywalker-Hook Victor. A title to fear.

I have my final interview with Caesar, the President places the Crown on my head, and I go home with Wolfmark and Seeder.

Fallstreak is the first one to greet us at the station when we arrive at the station. So is Asenath, my girlfriend, but there is something different in her kiss.

As I move into the Victors' Village and become accustomed to Victor life, Asenath and I drift apart. I don't think it's either of our faults, it's now the circumstances of my new life. Besides, my fellow Victors keep talking to me about the Victors' Code, a code that forbids personal attachments from Victors, and maybe this is for the best. Eventually, we break up, and I have to watch as Asenath has to chop the bale of wheat (District 11's marriage tradition) with another man. But I try to tell myself that she is better off. Being the wife of a Victor would have only put Asenath in danger.

* * *

Nearly another decade passes since my Victory. There has never been another District 11 winner since me, and I am anxious to have one. Even if my triumph makes the Reaping ceremony long enough as it is. Our escort finally gets around to pulling out the name for the girl tribute for the 54th Annual Hunger Games:

"Parry Ogilby!" I am struck when it is a pretty 18-year-old white girl takes the stage. Not many whites reside in District 11, and those that do are usually rich farmers whom we work the land for. Overseers, I think is their official title. Come to think of it, I can't think of a Games where District 11 had a white tribute in a long time. Maybe Wolfmark, now remarkably 70, has. But I bet he could count the number of those pupils on both hands. Maybe.

"Ash Slicerfell!" A boy of 15 joins Parry on the stage. They shake hands and are escorted into the Justice Building. Then, Fallstreak and I guide them to the train. Wolfmark needs his rest, and Seeder mentored last year; she promises to look after the old man.

* * *

I am more than surprised when Parry Ogilby goes on to win the 54th Hunger Games, making her District 11's fifth (!) Victor.

But she is also our only white one. And that could be a problem.

I am first concerned when we arrive home and most of the people at the train station only offer Parry polite congratulations. The only exception is a young man named Nuka. He is a black sharecropper who works hard in the fields and other odd jobs around the district. He has a bit of a speech impediment, and his social and learning skills are somewhat wanting, but he does well enough. He's a favorite amongst the people here, and thank goodness this year was his last Reaping; I couldn't bear the thought of mentoring him.

"Ms. Parry!" He actually gives Parry a hug, which she affectionately returns. "I said to myself, I knew you was gonna win! Yes, ma'am, I knew it!"

Parry gives him a tender smile. "Thank you, Nuka." His smile could light up the sun.

Not long after, Parry hires Nuka as a craftsman around her Victors' mansion. Sometimes, I see him around the property more than I see her, the Victor. Nuka works hard, tilling the soil in the back. Fixing the porch. Occasionally, Parry will come out and talk to him. Being next-door neighbors with her, I observe a lot. One day, I holler back to him, "Boy, why you work so hard?"

Nuka just smiles. "Anything for Ms. Parry!"

Fallstreak suddenly comes round back of my glass with a cool cup of fresh lemonade. She watches me watching Nuka work himself to death. "He's got it bad!"

"Got what?" I ask.

"Boy, ain't you got eyes?" she scoffs, and turns to go back inside her place.

One day, we all gather at Wolfmark's for dinner. Parry spends the whole meal looking quietly at her food. Finally, she stands up and announces,

"I've decided I want to get married."

We all stare at her in silence. "To who?" Fallstreak demands, and it's almost condescending.

"Nuka Boyne," she replies proudly.

"Foolish girl!" Seeder snaps, which surprises me; Seeder is usually very even-tempered. "You'd be breaking the Code!"

Parry stares at her, as if certain if she could find a supportive voice in any of her fellow Victors, it would be Seeder. "I love him," she practically whispers.

"Oh, Parry, eat something!" Fallstreak snarls.

But she doesn't. Parry leaves instead.

"I'm ashamed of all of you!" I bray at my companions, even though Wolfmark didn't give an opinion one way or the other. "So our Parry wants to court that nice young man. What's so horrible about that?"

"The Code -"

"To hell with the Code!" I beat away.

"Chaff!" Fallstreak barks.

"We don't live for the Code! We live for what's inside of us! I followed the Code, though it was hard for me; I lost the only woman I've ever loved! Why should Parry give that up? Why, a marriage would be the best thing that's ever happened to this Village! It's still half-empty!"

"What are you saying?" Wolfmark raises an eyebrow.

"It's boring! Nuka practically lives here anyway! Why don't the two yungins get hitched and have done with it?"

"Because if he takes Parry as a wife, he could be endangering us all!  _She_  could!" Wolfmark explodes. "And even if she wasn't, she could find better husbands than a half-retarded black boy!"

I stare in absolute shock. Never have I seen my oldest mentor this... ugly. "Just what exactly are  _you_  saying, Wolfmark?" I snarl, wanting to call him a bigot so desperately, but still refraining.

"You weren't there, kid!" Wolfmark snaps, even though I'm a 25-year-old man. "All the white trash yelling Trump, Trump, Trump like they was sheep! Beating anybody who disagreed with them! Them rallies was like watching that  _Tarzan_  movie where the gorillas trash the camp, but with all the pretty music switched off! And then they get us into this mess, and we serving them! Why you think them overseers don't mind the Games so much? Don't mind the Capitol so much, even though it's that city taking away all our rights?"

I stare. I never believed in somebody being anti-white, reverse racism. When we would study such concepts in school, I thought it was a lot of fantasy bullshit. An excuse for whites to still act racist around blacks.

But in loving Nuka, Parry doesn't see color. And neither will I.

"We have to support Parry," I say slowly, saving my argument with Wolfmark for another time, even if he has good reason to feel the way he does. I don't know yet. "We have to be a united front. Our job is to be there for her. Because she and that Nuka boy gonna face a whole lotta ugly when this gets out. We, as Victors, need to be above that."

And I storm out, heading to town to search for Parry.

It takes me a while to find her. And she doesn't see me, because she is still looking for somebody too. When she finally finds Nuka, she drags him into a darkened back alley, away from prying eyes.

Except for mine. I watch from afar as Parry kisses him desperately, until that Nuka boy is breathless. She kisses his lips, then along his jaw, over to his ear, tender. Then, she whispers so that I just hear:

"If we get married, you have to do what I say."

Nuka breaks their kiss in shock and stares.  _What did she just say?_

"And I won't have children. It's for my own good, as well as yours." She glances away, as she confesses. "I love you. More than anyone. And if we're gonna make this work, I have to protect you."

Nuka says nothing. Smiling, Parry lazily drapes her arms across his neck. "Go ahead, then. Ask me," she goads.

"Ask what?" Nuka splutters.

"Ask me to marry you."

Nuka does, choosing each word with care. She says Yes.

* * *

I learned from my Victory Tour that every district has its own little rituals and traditions. Especially surrounding marriage. In District 4, the groom is dunked in the ocean before carrying his bride off in a flat-bottomed boat. In District 7, the couple chop down a sapling together and then lay it flat, before leaping over it as well as a bonfire made from its logs. And my good friend Haymitch Abernathy, the only living Victor from District 12, has told me that to marry there, all one has to do is toast a bit of bread and share it with his love. And always sealed with a kiss. 

In District 11, we simply dress up nice and watch as the couple chop a bale of wheat in half with a scythe.

I whipped my friends into shape, Seeder quickly, Fallstreak and Wolfmark reluctantly. But they all accept the marriage that is now causing buzzes in the district, as we embrace Parry in congratulations and shake Nuka's hand.


	4. 75th Reaping

**Chapter 4: 75th Reaping**

I can't believe over another twenty years have gone by. No other Victor has won since Parry. Oh, Thresh and Rue made quite a go of it last year, especially Thresh. But when he fell to mutts in the Final Four, I rooted for District 12 all the way. When both those kids won, I had to feel ecstatic for my best buddy, Haymitch. He deserves a win after all these years.

Parry and Nuka are still together. The baby wasn't planned. But my successor is just 39 now, and her son, Arliss, is only four. Cute kid who brings life and laughter to the Village.

And sometimes, trouble. Like tonight, after we gather at Parry's place to watch the announcement for the Third Quarter Quell. I've only been alive for one other, the one that my good buddy Haymitch won; I took him under my wing and we've shared drinks in the Mentors' Bar for many a year now.

Anyway, Arliss has come in with something in his pocket again. When his mother investigates, he pokes a lizard at her.

"Oh, Arliss! How can you touch those ugly things?" And Parry lets out a yelp when she digs through her son's pockets to find a long creature.

"Aw, Parry, it's just a little old garter snake," I drawl.

"I don't care, get it out of here!" Arliss goes to obey. "If he'll pick up one kind of snake, he'll pick up another. Next time, it could be a rattler."

The programming comes on. When President Snow announces the twist as former Victors entering the arena, Parry screeches and Nuka promptly sends Arliss off to bed. This wasn't fitting for children to hear anyway.

We'll have a less painful reaping than most. At least four districts, maybe five will only have one Victor for a gender. Johanna Mason of Seven, Woof Casino of Eight and Daniel Bernhardt of Nine (he won only two years before me) will all be guarantees. And so will that Katniss Everdeen girl of Twelve, who just won. As for us, Wolfmark has held on as his cantankerous self into his 90s. 91 years young, he is! He couldn't possibly survive being Reaped a second time. As for the girls... Parry's a married mother now. Little Arliss would be crushed to see his mommy compete again. Fallstreak is 70. Maybe Seeder would be our best bet, though she's in her 60s.

But there is only one choice for the male tribute, Wolfmark or no Wolfmark. Me. I am going back into the arena.

* * *

I don't need to volunteer for Wolfmark on Reaping Day, though I bravely would have. And I am overcome with relief when Seeder is called for the girls. At least Parry is safe.

Wolfmark and Fallstreak take over the task of mentoring us, so that Parry can stay with her husband and child. When we reach the Capitol, the media is in an absolute frenzy. Before I know it, our stylists are finished with us and we are being pushed into the chariots for the Tribute Parade in the City Circle.

After the parade, I spy Haymitch in the crowd and he finally introduces me to his kids. The girl and boy who dared to defy the Capitol and escaped with both of their lives. Children after my own heart. The girl, Katniss, is pretty, but fiery, and her attitude moves me so that I dare to kiss her on the mouth. She flinches back, repulsed, but Haymitch and I guffaw. Peeta smiles wanly, to polite to convey openly his displeasure.

The next three days are Training. I get to know Peeta a little bit as we chuck spears together, and soon Brutus joins us. He is a volunteer from District 2 and one of my few peers. The 40-something gang is pretty much me, him (he won three years after I did), Daniel Bernahrdt of District 9 and James Logan of District 5. The girl, Katniss, is aloof, but she does seem to make friends with the District 3 people. And Mags, that old lady from District 4 who I think won the year after Wolfmark.

I have to protect them. I don't even know them, but I would do anything for Haymitch. And if it strikes a death blow to the Capitol once and for all, I'm game. But I have to try to get an alliance with them first. Peeta is willing, even if he doesn't laugh at my jokes that I have to admit are lame when we eat at lunch. But I learn from Haymitch that Katniss is not. She trusts Seeder, but she doesn't trust me. Maybe I shouldn't have just kissed her like that.

I get a 9 in Training. Haymitch's kids beat us all, with unprecedented 12s for both. I'm not surprised; they're some of the best tributes I've ever seen!

Then, we have the interviews. And my compadres are so clever about how they play it, subtly hinting at their anger over being betrayed to the arena for a second time. Seeder tells of how we in District 11 believe President Snow is all-powerful, and if that's so, why doesn't he change the Quell twist? Inspired, I go right on her heels by saying Snow could change the Quell if he wanted to, but that he must feel it does not matter to anyone.

Peeta and Katniss strike the final blow, lying about weddings and pregnancies. I go to bed that night, prepared to enter hell once more after three decades, euphoric.


	5. The Quell

**Chapter 5: The Quell**

It is so hard to say goodbye to Fallstreak and Wolfmark the next morning. And even harder to say goodbye to the Boynes by phone: especially Parry, and especially little Arliss. I might never hug his mulatto skin again, for that is what a child who has mixed-race parents is called in Eleven. A mulatto.

I really don't want to do this. Except for Haymitch's kids, I'm competing against people whom I've known for years. Friends. Maybe even family. We think that Parry Ogilby is somehow related to a Librae Olgi _v_ y, a Victor from District 4. And Savera Inchcape from District 8 is a distant cousin of Scorpii Inchcape, a Career Victor from District 1. Cecelia Sanchez from District 8 might have some family ties with Ivette Li-Sanchez of District 5. And how many other connections like this are there?

I emerge in a jungle, shored by a miniature sea. There's the Cornucopia, on a rocky island several yards ahead, with rocky spokes jutting out to create watery wedges. Two tribute pedestals are confined to each wedge. I am trapped in mine with the female from District 9, Marian Green.

When the gong goes off, she does not dive in. I do. I swim for the island with Haymitch's last words blaring in my head:  _Protect Katniss and Peeta's lives, Chaff. Even if you lose your own._

Between strokes, I keep my head above water, frantically searching.  _Katniss and Peeta... where are Katniss and Peeta?_

I don't find them as the first tributes reach the island and chaos begins its reign. But I do find a scythe lying abandoned on the rocks as I approach shore. I don't even have to get out of the water as I swipe it and reverse course towards the beach.

Swimming was never easy with only one hand. But I finally haul myself up onto the beach and take off into the jungle.

Eight cannons are heard that first day.

* * *

The second day is slower. I hear cannons periodically, though never more than one every hour. Although there is one time when I hear three in a row, and know a big battle must have occurred. I hope the fallen were not Katniss and Peeta.

It is very hot and humid. I hunt among the trees and find food easily enough, but am desperate for water.

Evening finally comes, and eight more Victors appear in the sky.

Two days and we are already at the Final Eight. I know it was reached and then surpassed by the end of the first day thirty years ago, but this is ridiculous! I am in the Final Eight again, and like before, I didn't really need to work for it.

I go back through who still lives. District 2, Brutus and Enobaria. Beete Latier of District 3. Finnick Odair of District 4, who was crowned two decades after me. Johanna Mason of District 7. And Katniss and Peeta.

I know what my mission now is. I have to find District 12 before the Careers or anyone else does. Even if it kills me.

* * *

I search all through that night, and into the wee hours of the next morning. Day 3 of the arena now. At last, I hit paydirt.

"Chaff!" Peeta Mellark practically embraces me rather than draw a weapon. Katniss is nowhere to be seen, but I don't mind. She can't be too far away, knowing how tight she and Peeta are. Even if I'm not exactly a believer in their little love story. Maybe Peeta can lead me right to her!

Suddenly, someone else finds us. And it isn't Katniss. It's Brutus.

I throw Peeta behind me. "Stay back! This is my fight!"

And even though I have only one hand, whereas Brutus still has both appendages and is bigger than me, do he and I fight! I get a few slices in with my scythe, wounding him, but the bobybuilder Career finally pins me.

I don't even have time for any final advice for Peeta before Brutus snaps my neck. BOOM.

But just before I slide into nothingness, I hear another cannon - BOOM - and am joined by a shocked Brutus.

We watch from heaven as the last six Victors break out of the arena, halting the Games early. And soon, they are halted forever.


End file.
